


wild mountain thyme (keep my dreams away)

by eclipsed (wasatch_97)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Disassociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, References to Depression, Relationship Study, alludes to skz but is up for interpretation, this whole piece is rlly vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27447388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/eclipsed
Summary: And there is Minho.Minho isn’t the light at the end of the tunnel, he isn’t a prince from a fairytale that will sweep Jisung from the dark. No, Minho’s eyes often lack the flicker of life that most others have. He sometimes keeps to himself, phone clenched in his hands with earbuds in, though Jisung knows it's a ruse.The easy deceit of pretending to play music when the static of white noise drowns the world out. Jisung knows, because he does the same.He is the same.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 14
Kudos: 83





	wild mountain thyme (keep my dreams away)

**Author's Note:**

> hi~  
> i wrote this almost exactly a year ago so i thought i’d post it, fair warning it’s just a study and is vague and confusing :D also hyunsung do fight in this but make up!!

And there is Minho. 

Minho isn’t the light at the end of the tunnel, he isn’t a prince from a fairytale that will sweep Jisung from the dark. No, Minho’s eyes often lack the flicker of life that most others have. He sometimes keeps to himself, phone clenched in his hands with earbuds in, though Jisung knows it's a ruse. 

The easy deceit of pretending to play music when the static of white noise drowns the world out. Jisung knows, because he does the same. 

He is the same. 

And Jisung feels guilt eat away at him when Minho looks at him with the slight tilt to his head; Jisung knows that if he goes to Minho when he can’t handle the world and Minho happens to feel the same way, Minho will hold his emotions back, listening to Jisung ramble, even when his own head is betraying him and he aches for an outlet. Jisung knows that Minho knows he thinks about it, feels the guilt of the thought of burdening Minho. 

Still, Jisung can’t help but be drawn to Minho when his emotions start to leak out. How he wishes he could have gone to Minho when his chest ached from the first of the day and his normal demeanor was shadowed over by his exhaustion-filled and anger-packed one. 

He lashed out at Hyunjin during practice, for something that was his own fault. He hadn’t changed positions as quick as the choreography called for and tripped up the other boy, both of them being sent to the floor with loud thuds. Hyunjin had just sighed, rubbing at his forehead, but Jisung felt the overwhelming need to emote his anger, no matter the consequences, and yelled at Hyunjin for making the choreography so interwoven that it resulted in physical pain. Hyunjin, though ever sweet, can never back down from a confrontation and fought with words that bit into Jisung, giving as good as he got. While Jisung yelled about his faltering in dance leadership, something he knows Hyunjin prides himself in, Hyunjin shouted words of hate directed at Jisung’s rap, how his voice is too high, that it makes him appear immature, something that he has always been sorely conscious of. 

So Jisung had turned to his biggest weapon, spitting words at Hyunjin about his visuals and his skill being boosted by his looks. 

Hyunjin’s face had turned white with shock and then his eyes narrowed and slapped Jisung with words about his producing ability, his songwriting ability, how Jisung lacked, how no one looked to him for guidance. Jisung had tears in his eyes, but his pride was too great to let them fall, when Hyunjin screamed at him that his lyrics were something a child could make, matching his voice, and that he was nothing more than someone who was allowed to tinker around with something out of his league. 

When Hyunjin had run out of air Jisung wrapped his arms around himself and nodded, holding his head high as he left the room, ignoring the calls of the others who had tried to step in but couldn’t manage to stop the strings of hate. 

Jisung has made it to the roof of the building, staring out at the city line when the door slams open and shut behind him. He spins around to find Minho, his hands in his pockets and looking at Jisung with a calculating expression. He walks up to Jisung after a moment, bridging the gap between them to wipe the tears Jisung hasn’t realized have fallen from his eyes. 

“I was wrong,” Jisung says when Minho’s fingers are dancing along his cheek, about to pull away. He stares up into Minho’s eyes as if searching for the comfort he so very much desires. Maybe he is.

“You were,” Minho says, but his expression is soft as he observes Jisung, hand trailing to rest on his shoulder. “But he was too.”

Jisung can’t look at Minho, instead studying their shoes. “Was it…egotistical to believe I was good - great - at my passion?”

Minho hums, hand sliding to rest on Jisung’s upper arm. “No, because you are very good. You have confidence in your abilities which is something many people don’t.”

“But I don’t,” Jisung says, “I’m weak. I lack so much, in my voice, in my abilities.”

Minho sighs, free hand tilting his chin up, making their eyes meet. “Don’t doubt that you burst with talent, Jisung.”

Jisung looks, really looks at Minho then. His hyung appears burnt out, his eyes dull and lips chapped, the ugly olive green and brown beanie Changbin had bought him as a gag gift covering his hair. His mouth is pulled into a thin line, a wrinkle between his eyebrows signifying his exhaustion. But there is the tilt to his head, the softening of his eyes, the ticks that give away his empathy, a look saved solely for Jisung. It’s a joke between the group that Minho favors Jisung above any of them, yet they each know it’s true, and Minho never denies. Jisung knows it, and though the thought makes his chest warm, the press of the knowledge that Minho cares is something that clogs his throat, a barrier to breathe. Because he knows that if he is ever in pain Minho will drop everything to care for him. Because that’s what Minho does. Does for him. Just for him. 

It isn’t long before Minho is holding Jisung against him, arms curling protectively around his dongsaeng, pressing the back of his head ever so gently so that Jisung’s cheek is resting against his shoulder. One hand drifts up from its position on Jisung’s shoulder blade to play with the hair on his nape, not long after moving to thread through the brown strands at the back of his head, working out any kinks. 

Jisung has his eyes shut, fingers shaking as they near Minho’s waist, slowly losing his nerve as he presses them into Minho’s athletic coat, the barrier of two layers of cloth not hiding the warmth of his body. Jisung’s body shakes ever so slightly and he breathes in Minho’s scent; the smell of vanilla and cinnamon and the city after a rainstorm. It is a mix of some random things but it makes Jisung feel _good._ Because when he smells the scent it means Minho is close. It’s a scent that Jisung has connected to the feeling of security, comfort. In a way he has manipulated himself into believing the scent to be one of complete familiarity: home. 

“Sungie.” It isn’t Han, or Jisung, even Hannie as the others usually call him; the name Minho often uses as well. This name is filled with sweet emotion and Jisung burrows closer. “Jisung,” Minho says, a faint sigh to his voice. “Sweet, lovely Jisung. If only you saw yourself as I see you.”

Jisung’s fingers splay out on Minho’s sides. “You have a clear bias though, hyung.”

Minho moves to gently press his chin against the side of Jisung’s head, and Jisung knows that he’s smiling into his hair. “You’re doubting yourself too much today.”

“How can I not?”

“Words,” there’s a faint change in Minho’s voice and Jisung can tell that his expression has changed; that he has turned serious. “Words can bring you down, Hannie, but it’s your choice whether to be weighed to the ground or,” his tone changes again, ever so slightly, “use those words to create something that proves what was handed to you wrong.” Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s hair. “Do you get it?”

Jisung does. And Minho knows he does. Minho means to do what Jisung loves; turning emotions into words and designing them into complex drawings on paper. Lyrics.

“I get tired too,” Minho says, “I wanted to yell today when my voice kept cracking during vocal work. I wish I have the power the others have in their voices. Even you.” Jisung feels guilt prickle in his fingertips. “Most definitely you.” It’s creeping into the pit of his stomach now, but Minho’s hand is quick to run up his spine, the touch telling Jisung that Minho had picked up on his anxieties. 

“And I’m mad, mad with myself, mad with the world that I can’t take what I was given with open arms. Hannie, my heart has black spots. Where I’ve given in to feelings of hate, where my anger has spilled. There’s greed and jealousy in my bones. See? I can confess easily that my heart is tainted, but does it make you care for me less?”

Jisung’s mind is processing Minho’s words, piecing together the meaning. “I don’t.”

There’s a smile in Minho’s voice when he says “I know you don’t.” Minho sighs again, as if he’s tired, sleepy, yet still having to face the break of day. “So, will you write me a song?”

“Who said I would write one for _you?_ ” Jisung quips. 

“I did,” Minho says, sounding smug. “And I know that you would have anyways, because you care for me just a little too much.”

Jisung nuzzles into the crook of Minho’s neck, the tip of his nose touching Minho’s skin. “You’re right.” Minho laughs, fingers trailing up and down Jisung’s spine. The position they’re in is beginning to get uncomfortable but he doesn’t want to move. And he knows Minho doesn’t either. Because they both are receiving the warmth and comfort they need. 

“I wish we could but we can’t stay up here much longer,” Minho says and Jisung knows he’s right. “When we go back down it’ll be loud, they’ll ask questions. You’re going to have to fix the rift between you and Hyunjin because what you both said needs to be resolved for us to work as a team. What do you think?”

Jisung hums. “Will you be there?” He knows it’s two questions - he knows both answers. 

“Yes,” Minho says, “but I can’t hold your hand, not like we can up here.” 

Jisung nods, feeling the remainder of his energy drain from his bones. He asks the second. “Will I have you?”

As always, Minho understands. “I’ll always be in your heart, Jisung. You’ll always have me.”

Jisung has tears in his eyes and he feels so foolish. “What would I do without you?” He relies too much on the hyung holding him. 

“No, Sungie, it’s what would _I_ do without you.”

Jisung knows Minho is the same as him but realizes it again. Minho is buried in emotions and holding onto the things that make him feel safe. Like Jisung. Jisung can say it because he knows, even aside from the evidence, he knows in his gut that Minho’s home is him. 

As Minho pulls away, his touch lingering to fix Jisung’s hair into place, the same tired expression is clouding his features. Jisung’s fingers wrap around Minho’s forearm and looking at Minho Jisung feels stupid. 

He is so busy in his own head that he’s failed to notice the changes in Minho’s demeanor, meaning his mind is weighed down, much more than just the brief things he’s told Jisung and Jisung feels angry with himself for not giving his hyung attention and comfort, a confidant. 

“Hannie,” Minho says, voice gentle as he tips Jisung’s chin up. “Don’t forget that you’re strong. I know you think you aren’t but you are. You’re one of the strongest, resilient, most courageous people I know.” He pauses, running his thumb over Jisung’s cheek. “Do you doubt me?”

“Not you, hyung. I don’t doubt you.”

Minho smiles, “I would hope you don’t.”

Jisung smiles back, leaning into Minho’s touch. “You know I think highly of you.”

“I know,” Minho says, lips curved upwards and Jisung thinks of how right Minho looks when smiling. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

Jisung rolls his eyes but it is fond, they both know so. “You would be lost without me.”

Minho grins, but there is something in his eyes that hints to seriousness. “Oh how right you are, Jisung.”

When they wander back into the practice room minutes later Seungmin greets them at the door with a frown. 

The boys are standing against the walls but Jisung’s focus is on Hyunjin who is pacing the far end of the room. Jisung can tell that he’s still angry, the way he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands a definite sign.

Taking a deep breath Jisung looks over his shoulder, meeting Minho’s gaze, the older giving him a slight nod. 

And so Jisung crosses the room, every step filling him with shame. Hyunjin notices him in seconds, pausing in his movements to watch Jisung come to stand in front of him, face neutral. 

Jisung knows what to say but the words are a jumble in his mind. But he tries anyhow, feeling small as he looks up at Hyunjin, his gaze burning Jisung alive. 

“What I said was hateful and untrue. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin stares at Jisung for a long moment, his empty expression making Jisung feel powerless and tiny. And then he raises his hand, slapping Jisung as hard as he is able. 

Jisung’s head is snapped to the side and the breath is knocked out of him. His heart pounds so loudly in his ears and throat that he can barely hear the shouts and footsteps running to them. 

The left side of his face is stinging but the feeling is concentrated in his cheekbone and Jisung raises his hand, pressing against the spot. When he withdraws his hand he feels sick, his fingers red with blood. 

Chan and Minho are there now, Chan speaking frantically to Hyunjin but Jisung can’t hear what he’s saying, focused only on the red and then he’s shaking, teeth chattering as a faux cold washes through him. Minho is talking to him, his hands are resting on Jisung’s upper arms, but Jisung is lost in the feeling of his fingers freezing up, how he trembles so badly that he can’t think, his heart pounding erratically as he struggles to breathe. 

Jisung doesn’t remember much else, aside from his legs giving out, the anxiety and shock and pain, not the physical kind, overtaking him, knocking him into unconsciousness. 

Behind his eyelids colors spin together, never mixing, reds and blues rearing up in a beautiful display of torment.

At some point, which feels like eons later, Jisung is slowly pulled awake, and when he opens his eyes the practice room is empty, save for Minho, who is holding him close and stroking his hair while humming a lullaby. 

Of course it’s Minho - it will always be Minho. 

“Hey,” Minho says when he notices Jisung’s aware again, “welcome back.”

Jisung looks up at his hyung, stares into his dark eyes. They’re soft and filled with worry, but most of all forgiveness. And Jisung realizes that’s what he’s needed most, the knowledge that someone forgives him.  
Minho wipes away the first tears but then too many fall and he presses Jisung’s forehead against his chest, fingers tracing patterns on Jisung’s back instead. 

He lets Jisung cry, which is what he needs. 

“Darling,” Minho says when Jisung’s sobs dwindle, the name tumbling from his lips easily because he’s Minho and has sweet words and knows how to make Jisung feel light and his soul is filled with comfort and forgiveness. All of it just for Jisung. “I’m sorry I drove you to do this, I didn’t expect him to,” he pauses and Jisung understands. 

“But I had to,” Jisung says, voice raw. 

“But you had to,” Minho repeats, running trembling fingers through Jisung’s hair. 

Jisung feels like he’s submerged in a black ocean; suffocating but comforting at the same time. He’s cradled in a cloud of sentient mist, fingertips brushing the shell of the prison he’s confined to, but having no way to break free. He sees bits of familiarity appear in front of him - Jeongin’s eyes and Changbin’s grin, he hears Chan’s laugh and feels Felix’s hug, Seungmin’s calming aura. But he also feels Hyunjin’s palm on his cheek and his chest tightens. 

And then there are arms wrapping around him from behind, a chest pressing up against his back. Jisung lets out a long breath, leaning back into the person he knows will always want to catch him when he falls. 

There’s the occasional sound that comes from the outside world, like the slamming of a door in the dorm or clanging of pots. But most often it’s Minho’s voice, either talking to the others or to himself, singing the occasional melody. Jisung can sometimes feel Minho stroking his hair but he’s too tired to open his eyes. 

Jisung doesn’t know how long he slept but eventually he feels like he’s dropping back into his body, feeling exhaustion in his bones as he draws closer to consciousness. Opening his eyes is a fight, but he does it, flinching when the light from the small window touches his eyes. 

After resting a moment Jisung begins to look around. He’s back in the dorm - he and Minho had walked back late at night, Jisung bundled up in Minho’s coat as they trudged through the dark streets. After Minho cleaned the cut on his cheek he was quick to fall asleep, the events of the past hours having caught up. 

Now, Jisung can see through the partially opened door to the living room which is empty. He figures the other members must be at practice, their profession never allowing time for a break. Sighing, he goes to descend into sleep again but out of the corner of his eye he spots a figure. 

Minho is sitting cross-legged on Jeongin’s bed, his computer perched on his lap, earbuds connecting to his phone, though one is dangling down, not put in. There’s a thermos of water next to him alongside a container of baby carrots and he looks like he’s been sitting there for a while. Minho looks exhausted, his hair a mess and he’s wearing the old tattered sweatshirt with holes along the collar that he rarely wears but says it’s the most comfortable for long periods of time. His glasses, which he hates to wear, are slipping down his nose. Jisung figures Minho must’ve not felt like putting contacts in. 

“Hyung?” 

Jisung hates how raspy his voice is but it gets Minho’s attention, who practically throws his laptop to hurry over to his dongsaeng. “Sungie, are you thirsty?” He grabs a glass of water from the table between the two beds, helping Jisung shift up slightly and raising the glass to his lips. 

Jisung gets a few sips down before it starts burning his throat, his body not used to drinking. He coughs and Minho draws back, placing the glass on the table again and beginning to fuss over Jisung, feeling his forehead for a temperature and fixing his blankets. Jisung can tell he’s putting up a front, behind Minho’s caring facade there’s deep worry in his eyes. 

“Hyung,” Jisung says, taking Minho’s wrist. “Stop. It’s okay.” 

Minho blinks, his hand beginning to shake slightly in Jisung’s grasp. “But - I don’t know what else to do.” He sounds so fragile and so unsure, unlike his normal state. 

Jisung tugs gently at his wrist. “Lay down with me.” 

Minho looks like he’s collecting himself before slipping onto the mattress. Jisung cuddles close immediately, his head tucking under Minho’s chin, taking a normal position for when they share a bed. Minho’s arms come up around him and Jisung smiles. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Minho whispers, “but I was really - I was terrified.” 

His voice sounds choked and Jisung pulls away, eyes widening when he sees the tears trailing down Minho’s cheeks. _“Hyung.”_

“You - you were bleeding,” Minho says, cheeks turning pink in an attempt to reel in his emotions, eyes squinting up to hold back his tears, “and you passed out, I tried so hard to stay calm for you when you woke up but Hannie, _I was so scared.”_

Jisung props himself up, using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe the tears off Minho’s skin. “Hyung—” 

“Chan researched it and supposedly you went into shock? And you haven’t been sleeping well so all of it together made you lose consciousness,” Minho cuts him off, eyes watering. “I—” 

Jisung claps a hand over Minho’s mouth, his hyung’s eyes growing wide and looking up at him, shock written over his features. “Hyung, listen to me, okay?” Jisung says, slowly pulling his hand away when Minho nods. “I’m okay, everyone is okay. This was not your fault, hyung. I was the one who started the fight. I know you’re quick to take blame but this is my karma.” 

“Hyunjin did strike you,” Minho whispers. 

Jisung nods - the pain is in his memory but he can’t allow it to shade his vision, not the slap or Hyunjin himself. “I will fix this. I promise.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jinnie,” Jisung says, tearing up. It’s not long later - he couldn’t have waited much longer to fix the divide.

Hyunjin looks on the verge of tears himself. “I’m sorry too - I forgive you, Sungie, I’m so sorry.”

Somehow they end up in an embrace full of tears shed by both. “I was so scared,” Hyunjin whispers. “When you started shaking. And then I saw the blood and realized how stupid I was - I should not have hurt you, I should have thought - the rings I was wearing - I’m so so sorry.”

“I know,” Jisung says, voice soft. “But I can’t forgive you, not yet.” He can’t - though he was in the wrong as well, Hyunjin’s slap will stay with him.

Hyunjin’s lip wobbles. “I hate this, Sungie.”

“Me too,” Jisung says, hugging Hyunjin close. 

They make it to the couch and Jisung curls up against Hyunjin’s chest, tangling their fingers together. “Chan-hyung was so upset,” Hyunjin says, voice far away as Jisung tries to keep focused, not letting himself submit to sleep quite yet. “Minho-hyung wouldn’t let go of you but I could tell that if he did he would’ve kicked my ass. If Chan-hyung was upset he was furious, livid.”

Jisung hums, listening to Hyunjin’s heartbeat, a steady sound that keeps him tethered to the present. “He’s like that.”

“Only for you,” Hyunjin says, “he wouldn’t go crazy for just anyone.” They both giggle but Jisung knows that it’s true. 

“Sungie, he loves you,” Hyunjin says in complete honesty, “you see it, right?”

What else can all of Minho’s soft words and touches, the favoritism, the protectiveness mean? 

Jisung doesn’t answer, and instead closes his eyes. 

Jisung feels himself being pried away from Hyunjin several hours later, still clinging on to slumber. He feels Hyunjin’s lips on his forehead and then Changbin’s arms around him, followed by a slow sense of vertigo as he is carried by his best friend. There’s voices speaking above him when he’s set down on a soft bed, nosing into the tangle of warm blankets. And then there’s the chest he had felt against his back in his dream after the fight, but he knows this time it’s real. 

“Minho…” his voice is so quiet he can hardly hear it himself. 

He feels a hand sliding under his shirt, fingertips mapping out patterns on his stomach. The voice he loves too much is speaking, but try as he might he can’t pick anything up, being too deep in the place between dreams and reality. 

He falls asleep quickly. 

Minho is still holding him when Jisung wakes up fully, nuzzling against his hyung’s shoulder in an attempt to hide away from the midday sunlight. 

“Sungie,” Minho whispers, cupping his cheek. Minho’s eyes are dark, darker than normal, looking fully black instead of the warm brown Jisung knows them to normally be. His thumb swipes against the bag under Minho’s eye, watching for any tick in his expression that may mean he should move away.

Minho just stares up at him like Jisung is his everything. 

Until Jisung pulls himself from Minho’s constant gravity, pushing himself from the safety of the blankets and Minho’s adoring touch. 

It’s too much, too much to be so openly loved by him.

Jisung is walking by one of the dance studios when he hears voices. He picks up on Hyunjin’s, and then to his surprise, Minho’s. Guiltily, he leans against the wall, listening to the conversation. 

“Hyung—”

“Don’t speak now,” Minho says and there’s an edge to his voice, one that Jisung has seldom heard. He knows Minho is recognized as harsh at times - but around Jisung he’s nothing of the sort. “If you talk I’ll yell and I don’t want to do that.”

There’s a long pause, some faint rustling of clothes but nothing more. Jisung is about to sneak away when Minho speaks. 

“I’m _so_ angry,” he grits out, “angry at you. Still. When you said your piece my blood was boiling. When you slapped him and then when he bled - I wanted to hurt you for what you did.” There’s a thump, presumably Minho’s head tipping against the wall, but Jisung is too focused on the conversation to pay much attention. “What he said to you was fucked - I know that - and what you said was as well. He instigated the fight but I - I was on his side from the first breath.”

Minho sighs and there’s a rustle of clothes again. “Hyunjin, you’re one of my best friends, you know that. And I never mean to hurt or offend you. But when Hannie comes into the picture it’s…it’s always him. I’m always going to be on his side, I’m always going to take care of him above everyone else.”

“I know,” Hyunjin says after a pause. “And I’m not mad - I always expect you to put Jisung first, it’s how you are with him. I don’t take offense in it because I know… I know that you treasure him, value him more than anything.”

“I’m sorry for being so angry with you,” Minho says. “I know you were wronged just as much and I don’t want to take away from that. I just wanted to explain.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says, sincerity in his voice. “And I hope that we can be okay again soon.”

Jisung hurries from the hall, putting as much distance between him and the rooms as he can. He finds himself at the dorms and tucks himself away in his room, only then allowing himself to slip to the floor, shaking.

Jisung bites the end of his pencil, staring down at the words scribbled haphazardly across the page of his notebook. Sometimes he hates songwriting - nowhere near as much as he loves it - but having all the emotions he wants to express stuck in his mind and no words to describe them with wears him out to the point where he feels cold even in the heat of his blankets.

Sighing, he rips the sheet out, crumbling it into a ball and tossing it onto the floor where it joins the many other crushed ideas. 

Tears of frustration build up and he bites his lip to keep quiet, shoving the notebook aside and buries his face in his pillow. 

Jisung feels so alone. 

Amidst his moment of self-pity he hears the door click open, the footsteps that pad a few feet into the room. Jeongin’s. Poor Jeongin, who doesn’t deserve to see his hyung break apart. Jisung’s gut wrenches. 

Jeongin’s footsteps leave the room and Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, feeling on the edge of a flood of tears. Caught in himself he misses the new footsteps, and jolts when a new weight shifts onto his mattress. 

But it’s Minho, always Minho. 

He wraps himself around Jisung, hugging him from the back and pressing his face into the crook of Jisung’s neck. Minho doesn’t do anything besides hold him and Jisung lets himself cry silently. 

After long minutes he shuffles around in Minho’s arms, looking up at his hyung. Minho’s eyes are soft, full of warmth and Jisung’s heart warms. “Innie came and found me,” Minho explains, voice quiet. “Usually I can - help,” he says and there’s a hint of insecurity in his voice. Minho, who is strong around the others, possesses fear of failure when it comes to Jisung.

Jisung stares at him, at his eyes and then the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Minho looks tired, circles under his eyes and skin pale but he still looks beautiful. 

“Jisung?” 

Jisung doesn’t know how he finds the words or the confidence. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Minho is frozen and shock runs through Jisung. He’s made Lee Minho speechless. 

“Will you let me?” Jisung asks, fingers curling in the fabric near the strings of Minho’s hoodie. 

Minho breathes in shakily. “Yes.”

Jisung unconsciously licks his lips, raising a hand to carefully curl around Minho’s cheek. He looks up at Minho one last time, and seeing no resistance he stretches up, kissing Minho softly. It’s brief but when Jisung pulls away, Minho’s eyes are soft, filled with too much emotion. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Jisung’s, fingers digging into his waist. 

“You love me,” Jisung whispers when Minho draws back. There’s finality to his voice because he knows that it’s the truth. 

Minho rests his forehead against Jisung’s. “I do.”

Jisung hums, fingers sliding into Minho’s soft hair. “Do you regret it?”

“Loving you?” There’s disbelief in Minho’s voice. “Never, Jisung.”

“But I’m a mess - my heart is so ugly.”

“Jisung.” Minho thumbs at his cheek and Jisung falls into the depths of his eyes. “There’s nothing purely good in this world. I can’t be the charming prince that sweeps you off your feet because my heart is ugly too. But I’ve seen you, who you truly are. And maybe your heart needs a few band-aids but it still beats.” His fingertips dance over the healing cut on his cheekbone. “My heart’s been torn in places and it’s had to be sewn together but I’m still offering it to you; you’ve held me long enough to know it beats too.” Minho presses his thumb against the corner of Jisung’s mouth, brushing over his lips. “Hannie - take my heart? It may not be much but it beats just to continue hearing yours.”

Jisung closes his eyes, pulling away to hide his face in Minho’s neck. 

“If you don’t have a response for me - if you don’t want to give me one I won’t be upset.” Minho says, voice soft, carding his fingers through Jisung’s hair. 

Jisung nearly cries again because Minho _understands_ , understands how hard this is. 

Minho hums, as if picking up on his thoughts. “We don’t have a schedule until tonight, can we take a nap?”

Jisung nods. 

Jisung confines himself to the studio over the break. With Chan and Felix visiting home and the others with their families he has plenty of time to himself, pouring over lyrics. 

But Hyunjin comes back early and finds him, locked in the studio where he’s cut himself off from the world.

“Sungie.”

Jisung looks up, blurry eyes meeting Hyunjin’s worried ones. “I thought you were coming back next week?”

“I came back early, and thank god I did, when was the last time you slept? Ate?”

Jisung ignores his words, ignoring the questions of his health. Nothing but the project matters – he would die before giving it up, he has come too far, crossed to many lines he’s hid from for so long. “Jinnie, you’ve been working with Chan-hyung...can you help me record?”

Hyunjin steps up beside Jisung and looks over the lyrics that are on Jisung’s laptop screen. As he reads his eyes widen. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Jisung feels nausea build within him but he knows he needs this - for himself. It’s time. 

So he nods.

“Jisung?”

Jisung’s eyes widen as he looks up at Minho, who has come through the studio door. “Hyung, I thought you were coming back at the end of the week?” 

Minho sets his bag down on the free chair, his hands twisting together with nerves. “It...It depends. I just needed to ask you something and then we’ll go from there.” 

Jisung nods, knowing what he’ll ask but still urging him on.

“You released a song today.” 

“I did.” Jisung glances at his laptop where the song itself is shown. 

“You released it on my birthday.” 

Jisung nods, unable to look Minho in the eyes. 

“Did you write it for me?” 

Minho’s voice is small, almost fearful like he doesn’t want let himself hope but can’t help himself. 

“I did,” Jisung whispers. 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m in love with you.” 

“What?” The word is broken and Minho looks to be on the verge of tears. 

“I love you,” Jisung repeats, standing shakily. “I love you, hyung. You’ve known for a long time now, but I’m ready now.” 

Minho is in tears by the time they meet and Jisung brushes them away, his fingertips sliding over the dampened skin of Minho’s cheeks easily. 

Before he can pull away and wonder how to touch Minho, Minho takes one of his hands and Jisung can feel the shake of his body through the movement. 

“Minho-hyung?”

Minho rubs his thumb over the inside of Jisung’s wrist and then kisses the spot. “Are you - are you completely sure?”

Jisung raises his free hand to rest on Minho’s shoulder, drawing them a bit closer. “I want you.”

Minho’s breathing turns shakier and a fresh wave of tears well in his eyes. “Okay,” he whispers, but his expression is a mix of emotions that Jisung can hardly decipher. Joy is nearly swamped by insecurity and Jisung wishes his hyung’s fears away. 

“Stop overthinking.” Jisung smiles shakily at him, hand tightening on Minho’s coat. “I have spent our whole break doing that already. I’m committed to this, hyung.”

“I’ve been scared of self-destruction all my life but you have always believed in me, even when it felt like no one else did. Sometimes I feel... _so alone_ , but I can’t make myself talk to someone. But you’ve cared for me for so long, you’ve held me when I wanted to disappear. It’s something invaluable, your love.”

Minho stares at Jisung for a long moment with watery eyes. “Hannie…”

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, tugging nervously on Minho’s collar. 

“Hannie, please love me.”

Jisung’s heart thuds painfully and he leans up, closing the distance between their lips. 

Minho’s limbs tremble slightly when Jisung returns to his bed. He sits on the edge of the rickety mattress and strokes his hyung’s hair, looking down at him with what he knows to be a foolishly lovestruck expression. 

He kisses Minho when his hyung asks with quiet words, and rubs the muscles that have gone a little numb. Minho only whines softly in complaint when Jisung shifts him further over on the bed so that he can lay down as well. 

“Thank you,” Minho murmurs, kissing a spot just below Jisung’s collar, head pillowed on Jisung’s bicep and his hand splayed out over his abdomen. Jisung hums softly, shifting slightly onto his side so that he can kiss him again, and then again. 

“You’re the love of my life,” Jisung whispers against Minho’s skin, kissing over the bruised splotches on Minho’s collarbone. 

Minho shakes a bit under the touch, still seeming just as out of focus as Jisung feels. “How do you know?”

“You have my heart, hyung. You’ve taken it even though it’s bruised and tattered.”

Minho lets out something like a choked laugh and curls closer into Jisung, whining quietly when one of Jisung’s hands drifts to his back and rubs carefully. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s turned into someone Jisung can make speechless; because he loves Jisung, loves him enough to cling to his every word and lean into his every touch.

Minho falls asleep not long after, and Jisung kisses his forehead, a surge of irrevocable love running through him for the boy huddled against his chest. Because that is what Minho is - just a boy who loves just as desperately as Jisung. 

Jisung looks down at Minho’s sleeping face and fear begins to prickle in his mind. The future terrifies him - what will happen now? Next week? In a few years?

Minho whimpers in his sleep, as if sensing Jisung’s distress and worries, but the slight noise makes Jisung tear up, his stomach turning to tight knots made of fear and anxiety and all the demons that whisper from the darkened part of his mind.

He doesn’t register he’s crying until Minho is peering at him sleepily, a hand coming to rest against his full cheek. 

“Sung-ah,” Minho whispers, “don’t think. Don’t think about tomorrow or the day after. Focus on me, yeah? I’ll be here to keep you grounded.”

Jisung leans in and kisses him, trying to push his thoughts aside. It works, it works for now, because Minho holds him close and walks them into slumber together.

Over the next week as the boys trickle back home it’s obvious that there’s a shift. A relationship that has always been there but never acted upon has finally taken flight. 

Jisung cries easily over the fear of their relationship but Minho holds him and kisses him through it, until the feeling passes for the time being. 

Now, besides just little touches that could be passed off as friendly, there’s the brush of hands while in the studio and the occasional stolen kiss in the kitchen or a recording booth. Jisung finds himself enthralled - trapped - by Minho, but the normally confining feeling comforts him.

**Author's Note:**

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